


Tex Padalecki and the Statuette of Doom

by zubeneschamali



Series: Tex Padalecki [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Indiana Jones AU, Jensen in a leather jacket, M/M, dubcon of the "x made me do it" variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zubeneschamali/pseuds/zubeneschamali
Summary: Jensen's determined to beat out his fellow archaeologist and bitter rival Jared "Tex" Padalecki to a valuable artifact in the jungles of Southeast Asia. Finding it will change his entire life—but not in a way he had ever imagined.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn_cinema; the movie on which it's very loosely based should be clear from the title. Also written for katbcoll, who won a fic from me and also suggested how to fill in a square on my hc_bingo card, which makes this a three-fer! Thanks so much to scintilla10 for the beta reading; it helped immensely.

Jensen dusted off his hands and adjusted the strap of his messenger bag so the weight wouldn't be smacking him in the thigh. He had a long way to climb up from the river's edge, and the weight of his leather jacket was more than enough to deal with in the tropical heat. Still, he'd need the protection the jacket offered, even if it had him sweating before he set one foot on the trail.

His guide had wanted to accompany Jensen up to the old temple, but Jensen insisted he stay with the boat. He didn't want his escape vehicle disappearing if he needed it in a hurry, and it wasn't like cell phones worked out here in the jungle of Maluku. Hell, his GPS barely managed to get a signal with the thick vegetation snaking over his head. Not that he needed it: he'd memorized where the ancient temple nestled among the rocky outcroppings of the eroded mountains, and coming up from the river was the shortest if steepest route.

The trail quickly narrowed into a faint track and then ended at a waterfall. Jensen splashed across the shallow pool at the base, removing his brown fedora and ducking his head under the water to cool himself. The only drink he took was from the purified water in his bottle; he was not risking a repeat of San Capitan. God, Padalecki still taunted him about that whenever they met.

Jensen firmly settled his hat back on his head and strode on, shaded from the rays of the tropical sun that filtered through the vegetation. He wasn't here to think about Jared "Tex" Padalecki. Except maybe to picture the look on the bastard's face when Jensen was the one to present the statuette of the ancient Malukan goddess at the next meeting of the International Archaeology Association. Let's see him preen about how he's the better field archaeologist then, Jensen grumbled to himself. At the last conference, Jensen had been left with egg on his face after Padalecki's find from a tiny Indonesian island ripped a hole in Jensen's carefully-developed theory about ancient migration across the Pacific.

Now, Jensen was determined to find the proof that his theory could be salvaged. He had statuettes from Irian Jaya and Palau that were a perfect match, and if the one from Maluku was in the same style, then Padalecki's find was the exception and not the rule.

Jensen couldn't wait to rub his face in it.

It was an hour before he was clambering among the rock outcroppings of the volcanic hillside, another hour before he was in front of the temple entrance. Not that the vine-covered rocks in front of him looked any different at first glance, but there was a symmetry that was too strong to be natural behind the years of plant growth. If it was a typical Malukan temple, there would be another entrance behind the main altar, carved deep into the hillside, but Jensen was fine with walking through the front door. Carefully.

Easing his machete out of its sheath, Jensen made his way forward. He didn't blindly hack through the vines but gently pushed them aside. What looked like a vine could easily be a snake, or part of a booby trap designed to catch thieves like himself. Not that he was stealing the statuette, just borrowing it for study. He'd give it back to the Indonesian government when he was finished, part of the agreement that had gotten him access here in the first place.

Sweat had soaked through the back of his t-shirt ("Archaeologists do it in the dirt") by the time Jensen entered the antechamber of the temple. He was still glad for the leather jacket shielding him from some of the thorny branches he'd slipped between. The antechamber was dimly lit, an opening high above letting in some sunlight that was filtered green by the vines across it. Jensen pulled out a small penlight and flicked it on, pleased at the bright beam it gave him. LED lights were awesome.

He moved forward cautiously, flicking the light in all directions to look for traps of any sort. There was a thin tripwire gleaming in the light that he carefully stepped over. One of the flagstones ahead looked darker than the others, splotchy and stained, and Jensen gave it a wide berth. He might prefer to travel alone for the speed and the privacy, but it meant he was completely screwed if he stepped on something he shouldn't.

The main chamber was darker, the light sifting in through a narrow opening that looked like it had been plugged by a fallen rock at some point. It meant Jensen couldn’t see much beyond the beam of his penlight, and he was concentrating carefully on where he placed his feet. There was another tripwire—obviously not a feature of the ancient temple, but a modern addition by locals who didn't want any of their ancestors disturbed.

That was fine by Jensen. He had no plans to disturb anyone's ancestors. One little statue was all he was after.

He was halfway to the altar when he heard it—a scraping noise coming from behind the massive block of black granite. "Better not be rats," he muttered to himself, sheathing the machete and drawing the ivory-gripped Colt he kept at the small of his back just in case.

Gun and penlight braced in crossed hands, he crept forward, edging out into the broadest part of the chamber with the altar dead ahead. It was as tall as he was, a solid slab of black stone that seemed to suck up the little light in the room. What he was after would be in a niche around the left side. Which happened to be where the noise was coming from. Great.

Holding his breath, Jensen poked his head around the side of the altar. What he saw made him let out a loud groan and shove the gun back in his waistband. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed.

Tex Padalecki looked up, startled. He had a penlight of his own clenched between his teeth and a cheap string backpack open in both hands. He was standing right in front of the niche in the rock that Jensen had been aiming for, one hand already reaching out towards the dull bronze statue that his freakishly long fingers would probably engulf. When he saw Jensen, he smirked and removed the penlight from his mouth. "Looks like I'm kickin' your ass yet again," he drawled.

"Get away from that, Tex," Jensen demanded, sidling closer.

"Like hell," Padalecki sneered. "I got here first. You lose, Ackles."

"Like hell," Jensen echoed. "You got a plan for getting that out of here?"

"I was figuring on picking it up and walking out the way I came. I'd ask if you've got a problem with that, but I really don't care what the answer is, so…" He gave an exaggerated shrug and turned back towards the statuette, training his light on it.

"Did you at least check for booby traps?"

Padalecki impatiently shook his hair out of his eyes. "Oh, my God, I never would've thought of that. I'm so glad I have a big strong man here to save me. Give me a break, Ackles," he added in a lower tone of voice. "Which one of us is dumb enough to drink the local water?"

"Shut up," Jensen grumbled. "Look, if it's the same as in Palau, which it is, there's going to be a trap triggered by removing the statuette. Probably involving a poison dart at chest height." He eyed Padalecki up and down. "Or at waist height. You got a counterweight for it?"

"It's not the same as in Palau," Padalecki retorted. "It's the same as the one I found in Sulawesi, which means the trap is triggered if the statue isn't inserted in the slot in the doorway before crossing the threshold on the way out. And who the hell says 'statuette'?"

Jensen ignored the jibe. "Look at the shape of the eyes and the coloring of the hair. It's not Sulawesian. That's the other side of the Weber Line."

"Which is completely irrelevant. It's the Wallace Line that matters, Ackles. Besides, we're talking humans, who can get in boats and cross the water, unlike other mammals or birds."

Jensen rolled his eyes. How many times had he heard this same, incorrect argument from Padalecki or his followers at conferences or in journal articles or even in the media? If a sharp division existed between plant and animal life from one island to the next thanks to plate tectonics, it stood to reason that there were strong differences in the aboriginal cultures on either side, too. Weber was the one who'd drawn that line in the right place, not Wallace. "If you would just listen for one minute instead of trying to—"

"Quiet." Tex held up one large hand.

Jensen opened his mouth indignantly before he, too, heard it. There was a rustling sound coming from the antechamber from which he'd entered. They both stayed frozen for a moment, looking at each other in the glow of their penlights.

"You got someone with you?" Padalecki whispered.

Jensen shook his head. "You?"

"No." Padalecki frowned. "You didn't trip anything on the way in, did you?"

Jensen scowled. "No! Why the hell'd you come in the back way, anyway?"

"Easier hike, and I gotta take this through there on the way out," Padalecki said, jerking his thumb towards the statuette.

"No, you don't," Jensen insisted. He dug in his bag for a rock about the same shape and size as the statuette. "Because it's not like the one from Sulawesi."

"Yes, it is," Padalecki insisted.

"Would you just humor me?" Jensen held up the rock. "Put this down on the pedestal when you take the statuette off."

Padalecki's eyes narrowed. "You're letting me take it?"

Jensen huffed out a breath. "I'm not gonna fight you for it. And as much as I'd like to see your ass get caught in a booby trap, anything that comes down on you is likely to get me, too."

"Aw, Ackles, you're so considerate," Padalecki drawled. He looked at the statuette in its little niche. "Tell you what, I'll pick it up and you put down the rock. On three."

"Don't trust me, huh?" Jensen asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not as far as I could throw you," he returned with an easy smirk. "One, two…"

Jensen was reaching out with the rock as Padalecki's hand closed over the top of the statuette. Padalecki lifted the bronze piece free, Jensen put down the rock, and they both stood back.

There was silence except for the scratching noise from the antechamber, trailing off toward the exit. Jensen's heart was thumping, but once he realized there was nothing to be worried about, it started to slow.

Padalecki cleared his throat. "Well, okay then."

"Right." Jensen looked down at the small statuette in Padalecki's large hand. "Can I at least see it?"

Padalecki held it up. "See?"

"No, I mean—"

The sudden lurch underneath their feet took them both by surprise. Jensen staggered sideways, the weight of his messenger bag unbalancing him. Padalecki's arms flailed, the penlight going flying and the statuette slipping loose.

"Don't—" Jensen lunged out and grabbed the statuette as Padalecki's fingers closed more firmly around it.

Instantly, he felt something like an electrical shock run along his arm, shooting up from the still-rumbling ground beneath their feet. "What the hell was that?" Jensen gasped, jerking his arm back.

"I don't know." Jared looked down at the rocky floor, where a crack had opened in a straight line between the niche where the statue had been and the black monolith of the altar. "You triggered it with that stupid counterbalance, didn't you?"

"How could I?" Jensen looked around at the walls, puffs of dust starting to rise up as the entire room shook. "That was supposed to stop the trap from being sprung."

"Well, it's obviously not like your find in Palau, is it?" Padalecki snapped. He tilted forward as the surface shifted beneath him, barely keeping his balance.

"And it's obviously not like yours in Sulawesi, unless you were supposed to stick this thing in the doorway two seconds after you lifted it." Jensen raised his voice as the rumbling of the rock around them grew louder. "Which way out?"

"The back is closer," Jared replied, but just then there was a deep grinding noise from below and the crack at his feet suddenly widened. He yelped and leaped back, the statuette falling from his hands as he flailed to keep from tumbling down.

Jensen lunged out and caught it, feeling a faint tingle this time instead of a shock. He teetered on the edge of the crack for a moment before leaning back and keeping his footing.

Across the widening gap, Jared was glaring at him. "Give that back!"

The clunk of falling rock behind Jensen had him whipping his head around. Small pieces were detaching from the ceiling and coming down, and he followed the curve of the high ceiling up until he saw something that made his breath catch. "Jared!" he shouted, pointing upwards.

Dirt and small rocks were sifting through the narrow opening in the ceiling. They watched in astonishment as a massive boulder rolled over the opening, the ceiling shaking with its weight and the room growing darker.

"It's supposed to fall in," Jared called, gesturing up at it. "If that other rock wasn't blocking it, it'd be rolling straight down here."

Jensen's jaw dropped as he realized Jared was right. Whatever they'd triggered, it was meant to smash through the ceiling and crush whatever unfortunate soul had set it off in the first place. He looked down at the statuette in his hand. This wasn't like the temple in Palau or the one in Irian Jaya. This was completely different.

Excited at the prospect of something completely new, even if it was incompatible with his current theory, he looked up to see Padalecki's face like a thundercloud. "That's mine," Jared growled, holding out his hand.

The floor had stopped shaking, the crack having stabilized at a couple of yards wide. It was too dark to see how far down it went, and no way in hell was Jensen lobbing something as valuable as this statuette over it. That was, assuming he was willing to give it up at all. "Not my fault you couldn't hold on to it," he retorted, letting a bit of his own Texas drawl slip out.

"Damn it, Ackles!" Jared started forward, then caught himself on the edge of the precipice. A pebble skidded over the edge at his toe, and they both watched it fall.

It was a damn long time before they heard it strike anything, and Jared's face was pale when Jensen looked back over at him. "Fine," Jared finally said, backing up a step. "But this isn't over." He pointed a finger at Jensen. "You're wrong about the Weber Line."

Jensen held up the statuette and wiggled it back and forth. "You're the one who's wrong, Tex. But you can hear all about it at the next IAA meeting."

On that triumphant note, he turned on his heel, picking his way across the rock-strewn floor and over the tripwires he remembered from the way in. One had been triggered by the rockfall, an arrow embedded in the wall at hip height, and the thought of how much force it would have taken to drive that arrow into the rock had Jensen shivering despite the sweat on his back.

That, and the rats scuttling over the ground, obviously the source of the earlier noise. Jensen shuddered. He was going to be so glad to get out of here.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Padalecki making his way out the back. He'd shoot the guy an e-mail once he was back in Bali, make sure he'd made it out in one piece. Maybe he'd gloat a little, too.

Jensen tucked the statuette safely in his bag and pushed his way through the vines, grinning as he stepped out into the sunlight and adjusted his fedora firmly on his head. There was nothing like an expedition going even better than planned.

 

Two months later

Jensen's gaze swept across the lecture hall, pleased to find every eye on him. If some of the gazes were more half-lidded than others, he couldn't help it. His colleagues liked to tease that he singlehandedly increased the number of female archaeology majors by giving them something to look at in the front of the room, but he shrugged them off. He was here to educate his students, nothing more. Never mind that at least once a semester he got a request for "extra credit" delivered with fluttering eyelashes or a suggestive smile, but Jensen always smiled tightly and turned them down.

Besides, after Maluku, it was a moot point.

Which wasn't to say that he didn't take advantage of having the students' attention, especially on the first day of the term. "Archaeology is not what you think it is," he started, hands clasped behind his back as he stood in the center of the stage of the largest lecture hall on campus. "It's not glamorous. It's not exciting. It's brushing the dirt off little tiny pieces of things and trying to glue them back together. You can get the same effect by asking your kid brother to smash your mom's best vase and bury it in the backyard. No, wait." He held up a finger, and half of them leaned forward in their seats. "If your mom is anything like mine, that would actually be more exciting."

There were a few laughs, and Jensen relaxed a little. If they didn't laugh early on, the whole semester would be a lot more difficult. "So that's the first thing you need to know. Also? Write this down, ladies and gentlemen. X never, ever marks the spot."

More laughter, and Jensen grinned. As much as he loved being out in the field, there was definitely something to be said for this part of the job as well.

The rest of the class flew by, and Jensen was soon stacking up his leftover syllabi and fending off the advances of a half a dozen young women and one young man who were already asking about his office hours and the possibility of private tutoring. He directed them all to his secretary—thank God for Rose and her grandmotherly over-the-glasses look that could get the most determined student suitors to back off—and escaped to his office.

Shutting the door behind him, Jensen let out a sigh. "One down, forty-four to go," he said out loud. Minus the midterms, minus the week he was missing for the IAA conference, so really there were only thirty-nine more classes to go. Excellent.

He dropped his extra syllabi on the desk nearest the door and moved further into the office, past a stack of yellowing manuscripts and a jade Buddha statue whose stomach he absentmindedly rubbed. It wasn't that he was superstitious, it just was something he always did after finishing a class.

There was a knock at the door, and Jensen sighed. No one should have gotten past Rose. He ran a hand through his hair and flung open the door, starting, "Office hours are—"

It wasn't a student. It was Jared Padalecki, looming over him in the doorway. "Ackles," he said coolly, although Jensen could see a muscle in his jaw twitch.

Jensen's jaw dropped, his pulse suddenly racing and breath coming fast as everything he'd been blocking out for the past two months came slamming into him like a sledgehammer. "You can't be here," he said slowly. Jared's university was a ten-hour drive away, and Jensen had been sure that would be enough distance so that this would never happen.

"Oh, yes, I can." Before Jensen knew it, Jared was pushing forward into the office, pulling the door from Jensen's grasp and slamming it behind him. His long legs were encased in the same well-worn jeans he'd been wearing in Maluku, his muscled forearms emerging from the rolled-up sleeves of his plaid flannel shirt. Jensen realized with a shock that he'd never paid this much attention to the man's body before, and if he'd needed any confirmation that his research on the statuette was correct, this was it.

Oh, shit, he thought, mind working frantically. He had to get out of here.

Clearing his throat, Jensen backed up. "No, I mean, you really shouldn't be here." The window behind him was almost as tall as he was, and he was on the ground floor. Maybe he could escape out of that. Anything to get away from—

"Too bad." Lightning fast, Jared's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

The resulting shiver that washed over Jensen's body at the skin-on-skin contact was so deep that it must have been visible. He yanked his arm away, taking advantage of Jared's sudden shocked expression. "You need to leave, Padalecki," Jensen said in a low voice, aware that his voice was shaking and completely unwilling to admit to himself why. "Right now."

Jared was staring at him, brow furrowed. His eyes were some kind of color Jensen couldn't define, somewhere between blue and green and brown. Before he knew it, Jensen was taking a step forward to look into them more closely. When Jared's lips parted and Jensen's gaze dropped to their pink swell, a low heat started to coil in his belly. It was a familiar feeling, but one he'd never experienced with a man before, and the shock of it was enough to get him to turn his back to Jared. "Please. Just leave."

"No." Jared stepped closer, and Jensen could almost feel the heat radiating off his big body. "You need to tell me what's going on."

Jensen drew in a shaky breath. As long as he didn't look at him, he might be able to do this. "What do you mean, what's going on?"

"Don't play with me, Ackles." Jared's hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around. Jensen stumbled a little as he jerked away from Jared's touch. "What was that statue?"

"You came all the way here to ask me that, Tex?" Jensen smirked, even if he could tell it was a little weak. "Sounds like I'm the better archeologist after all."

Jared grimaced, hands clenched into fists at his sides as if he was trying to restrain himself from reaching out and punching Jensen. Or possibly touching him in some other way. "You know that's not what I mean," he growled, and the low timbre of his voice made that heat in Jensen's gut start to grow.

Jensen shook his head to clear it. This was ridiculous. If he just came out and said it, Jared would go away, and he'd never have to deal with it again. And pigs might suddenly fly past the windows. "It's a sacred statue used in a binding rite. Not related to what either of us was looking for."

Jared's head tilted to the side. "Binding rite?" he asked, a dangerous note to his voice that did not send a shiver over Jensen.

"Yeah." Jensen reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. "At least, that's what the tribe who carved it believed. It was used to bind couples together as part of a marriage ritual, near as I can tell."

"As near as you can tell." Jared took a step forward, and Jensen moved back an equal distance. "What kind of binding are we talking about?"

Jensen tried to step farther away, but Jared kept following him. "The kind where two people are bound to each other for eternity."

"You're kidding me." Jared ran a hand through his hair, and Jensen had to clench his fist to keep from reaching out to see if the waves of warm brown hair were as soft as they looked. "You and me?"

"What? No," Jensen tried. "It's just an artifact, Tex. It's not real."

"Like hell it's not." Jared advanced again, and Jensen gave a start when his back bumped up against a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. "Ever since you left me back there, after we both touched that stupid statue, I haven't been able to…" He trailed off, and two spots of color appeared high on his cheekbones.

"To…?" Jensen lifted an eyebrow, trying harder than he ever had in his life to look cool and collected. His fingers dug into the edges of the bookshelves to hold himself back.

Jared grimaced. "You know." His gaze dropped below Jensen's waistline and back. "For two goddamn months."

Jensen put on a fake sympathetic expression. "They say that happens occasionally as you get older. Maybe you should stay out of the field if you're getting too old to—"

"Fuck you, Ackles." Jared leaned forward, and suddenly he was pressed full-length against Jensen, every inch of his muscled body pinning Jensen to the bookshelves. "You knew, didn't you? You knew what it would do and you thought you'd play a little game with me." His thighs were strong against Jensen's, his chest broad and firm, and oh, shit, that long, hard line Jensen could feel against his hip was not a piece of chalk in his pocket.

"I didn't know," Jensen quickly replied, hating how breathless he sounded and how he had to look up to meet Jared's eyes. When Jared scoffed, he went on, "I swear! D'you think I'd have deliberately bonded myself to your gigantic ass?"

"I thought you said it wasn't real," Jared taunted. He shifted his legs so they were on either side of Jensen's, enclosing him. "That it was only an artifact."

Jensen heaved in a breath, regretting it when it put more of his chest into contact with Jared's. God, he couldn't take much more of this. He was close enough to smell Jared, and while the musky odor of his sweat should have been a complete turnoff, it was only making him hotter. "I've been having the same trouble," he confessed. "I thought it was just me, since I was the one who ended up with the statuette."

"Doesn't seem to be a problem right now," Jared retorted, shifting his hips forward.

Jensen inhaled sharply. God, even through their clothing, he could feel the heat of Jared's cock nestled next to his own growing erection, and it was rapidly shredding his self-control. "Jared, don't," he warned, feeling like he was on the edge of that precipice that had opened up in the temple in Maluku, hanging on by his fingernails. Two long months of not being able to get himself off were boiling up in his blood, and he could only hold on for so long.

"Were you even going to tell me?" Jared demanded.

"No." As Jared's eyes widened, Jensen went on, his voice creeping higher, "Even if it wasn't just me, what good would it have done?"

"What good?" Jared growled. His hands closed around Jensen's hips, and Jensen was arching into the touch before he could stop himself. "Goddamn it." Jared dropped his head so that his face was brushing Jensen's neck, warm breath washing over the skin just under his collar. "I hate you so much right now," he muttered in Jensen's ear, the brush of his lips sending a shudder through Jensen. "But all I want to do is tear off your clothes and see how many ways I can make you scream."

"Oh, God." Jensen was so turned on he thought he was going to burst, but there was one fragment of sanity left. "Jared, if we don't—if we don't give in, then the rite won't be completed. We won't be bonded."

Jared's breaths were coming hard and fast in Jensen's ear, and his fingers were digging into Jensen's hips hard enough to bruise. "You mean this will all go away?" he panted. "We'll go back to normal?"

Jensen closed his eyes. "No," he breathed, feeling the softness of Jared's hair against his temple and the scratch of stubble against his cheek and aching with the need to feel more. "We'll have to stay away from each other. And we can't—we still won't be able to. You know."

"Oh." A moment passed, and then Jared slowly leaned away, like it was taking a great deal of effort. "Is that what you want?" he asked, eyes searching Jensen's.

Jensen knew he should move away, should try to think about this rationally and come up with the logical answer. But he'd never felt like this before, this liquid heat surging through his veins, and when he opened his mouth, what came out was a strangled, "No. I want you."

He had only a second to take in the relief on Jared's face before his mouth was crashing down on Jensen's, hot and wet and demanding and like nothing Jensen had ever felt before. There was so much of him, broad shoulders and long arms and muscular legs, and all of it was Jensen's to touch. His hands roamed wildly as their lips and tongues slipped and slid past each other, pushing Jared's shirt up to his armpits and taking in all that smooth, firm muscle of his chest and back with sweeps of his hands. Jared was letting out these sexy little grunts and groans as he plundered Jensen's mouth and cupped his head in one gigantic hand while the other worked at Jensen's clothing, and even if it hadn't been over two months since Jensen had gotten any, this would have taken him from zero to sixty in no time.

"Can't believe you wear a fuckin' bow tie," Jared muttered as he mouthed his way down Jensen's neck, nipping at the skin between shoulder and neck as he pushed Jensen's shirt off of him.

Jensen tugged frantically at the flannel covering Jared, and with a popping of buttons, it came off and dropped to the floor. "Can't believe you wear flannel in August," he retorted, and then their chests were sliding together, slick with sweat, and the touch of all that skin had Jensen bucking his hips against Jared's, feeling waves of desire wash over him.

"Oh, fuck," Jared muttered, his arms locked around Jensen and what felt like acres of warm skin tight against him as Jared started rubbing up against him through their pants. The raw sound of his voice was like a lightning bolt to Jensen's groin. "Jensen, I can't—"

"I know," Jensen panted, unable to hold back. This was crazy, he'd never even thought about a man like this before, and here he was thrusting his hips wildly against Jared's, the feel of that hard erection lined up against his hotter than a fever. He didn't even remember sticking his hand down the back of Jared's jeans, but he had a handful of sweet, firm ass that he was pulling towards him, Jared's bitten-off grunts in his ear the sexiest thing he had ever heard. "I never—" He broke off, all coherent thought gone as Jared ground into him, only able to moan his pleasure at the sensations rising over him.

"Yeah, that's it," Jared gasped. He was everywhere, twined around Jensen like they were one body even though they were still half-clothed, the heat of his skin and the scent of his sweat wrapping around Jensen and drawing him ever higher. "God, Jensen, you're—"

Whatever he had been about to say was lost as he thrust hard against Jensen, once, twice, and then in a long, drawn-out shudder that Jensen could feel over every inch of his body. The wet heat Jensen could instantly feel soaking through his dress slacks was the last straw, and he was arching back in Jared's arms, eyes closed and mouth wide open, feeling pulse after pulse of orgasm until he felt like he was being drained dry.

When Jensen came back to himself, he and Jared were leaning against each other, arms draped loosely around each other. His heart was still pounding, his breath still faster than normal, but there was a feeling of peace and contentment stealing over him like he'd rarely felt. Must have been a really good orgasm, he thought dimly.

Then he registered the feel of Jared's warm, firm body against his, and Jensen lifted his head. Jared was looking back at him with the same dopey, blissed-out expression Jensen could feel on his own face.

Jensen automatically started to smile back, and then his face froze. This was the bond. The stupid statuette had done this to them, and that was all this was. The feeling of contentment started to slip away, and he tried to twist out of Jared's arms.

"No," Jared muttered, pulling him closer and hooking his chin over Jensen's shoulder. "Not lettin' go."

The sleepy Texas drawl in his ear was doing strange things to Jensen, but he tried to shake it off. "This isn't real," he tried. "It's the fucking statue."

"Statuette," Jared replied. He splayed a hand over Jensen's lower back, warm and possessive. "'Sides, feels real enough to me."

"I don't—" Jensen pulled back enough so he could look Jared in the eye. "I'm straight, Jared. I never—this isn't me."

"I never have either." Jared blinked at him, his eyes a peaceful sea of blue-green. "Don't care. It feels right, doesn't it?"

Jensen took in a deep breath. His boxer briefs were wet, his dress pants too, his back probably had indentations from the bookshelf, and he was getting a crick in his neck from looking up at Jared so much. He was praying that Rose hadn't heard a thing from her desk outside his door or that any passersby outside hadn't heard anything through the window—tenured or not, sex in one's office was generally frowned upon.

But under all that—something felt different. Not just the post-orgasm lassitude, although that was pretty fucking awesome. He felt—good. Like something he'd been missing had been found, or like a hole had been filled that he hadn't even realized was there. And when the juvenile corner of his mind filled in the gaps of "fucking" and "hole" with some awful puns, Jensen realized he didn't care. He was willing to try things out with Jared that he'd never even considered before, and that didn't scare him.

"Yeah, it does," he admitted, running his fingers through Jared's hair (which really was as soft as it looked) with a small smile. Then he let out a short breath. "You realize we've got the greatest archaeological find of the century sitting on that shelf over there and we can't tell anyone about it without being laughed out of the academy?"

"I know, right?" Jared leaned down so their foreheads were touching. "I think it'll be enough of a shock when we show up at the conference hanging off each other."

Jensen grinned. "Remember Collins threatening to lock us in a room until we worked out the sexual tension between us? He's gonna be the most surprised."

"That sounds like a fine idea." Jared pressed forward, and Jensen realized with a jolt that he was getting hard again. They both were, and that same coiling spiral of desire was starting to work its way through him once again. "You got anywhere to be right now, Dr. Ackles?" he murmured in a voice practically dripping sex.

"No, but if you can hold on for a few minutes, my house is only a few blocks away." He trailed his hands down Jared's bare back, relishing the feel of solid muscles beneath his hands. "Got a king-size bed and everything."

"Mmm." Jared gave him a long, slow, tongue-tangling kiss that had Jensen's zipper straining by the end of it. "Sounds good for round three."

Jensen laughed and followed him down as he sank to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the statuette on a bookshelf across the room, and he could have sworn it was faintly glowing.

Then Jared's big, rough hand slid into his pants and closed over the bare flesh of his cock, and Jensen decided he'd investigate the artifact later. Much, much later.


End file.
